


Warriors

by imaginedragonsfly



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Caradin - Freeform, Din's POV, Drift Compatibility, Established Relationship, F/M, Idiots in Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26284378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginedragonsfly/pseuds/imaginedragonsfly
Summary: Din contemplating Cara before taking a monumental step forward.
Relationships: Cara Dune & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Cara Dune/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 50





	Warriors

**Author's Note:**

> Din stayed after episode 8. This is mostly his inner monologue.

Today.

_Easy bounty my ass!_ Din can hardly think while trying to catch his breath. This was suppose to be an easy bounty with a big payout. So why are they running full tilt in the desert dunes, with a group of raiders on their heels. Bounty in tow, they ducked into a higher ground and took defensive positions. Din kneeling on the ground, rifle on hand, eyes on the scope. He can feel his sweat trickling down, breathing ragged but his hands are steady. Taking down the advancing group rapidly and effectively. Cara towering over him with her automatic gun blasting away.

The shots are deafening until he hears a distinctive mechanical clicking of an empty barrel. “I’m out!” Cara exclaims as she drops down to take cover.

“I have five seconds.” Din almost whispers, so calm it sounded eerie while shots after shots rang and echoing around them.

Cara reloading an empty pistol while five seconds tick down. Like a precise machine, like cogs clicking together, at the exact point Din hands Cara his gun and in return she passes him a now fully loaded pistol. Shots rang out without missing a beat. 

A dozen raiders left barreling towards them.Cara places the rifle on Din's shoulder and whispered, “Don’t move." With frightening precision she picked the moving targets one by one, until the last one skidded face down in the sand. With smoke still emanating from the weapon and Din's ears ringing like hell, Cara stood up and handed him the rifle.

“Let’s not do that again”, she admonishes as she hauls the bounty up and starts trekking towards the ship.

Inside after securing the bounty. Din is finding sand everywhere. Even the kid found a handful that he is playing with on the floor. Cara devoid of her armor is desperately shaking every piece to get rid of the irritating grain. Her armor padding hanging from her hips, she’s left wearing a black top undergarment.

Din going against his better judgement, he scans the exposed skin for breaks and bruises that Cara will surely neglect to attend to. To his relief the only thing he can see amiss is the angry sunburn on her arms and neck. Din wordlessly took a bottle of aloe and gently tossed it her way. Like instinct Cara promptly catches it with a bewildered look, until she got a glimpse of the label.

“Are you checking me out Djarin?" A smirk blossoming on her now unbelievably red lips that matches the deepening blush on her cheeks. _Sun and exertion looks good on her_ , Din muses.

“Someone has to Dune or else you’d be suffering in silence.” He quips as he walks to the refresher.

“Says the guy who lives by Tis nothing but a scratch.” She replies as she bends down and scoops the kid up. Holding the child in arms length, Cara sighs. “Look at you, did you bathe in the sand? Do I need to shake you too to get rid of it?” Cara gently swaying him from side to side.

Piercing happy squees fill the compartment.

Sorgan.

Who would have thought that in this backwater planet he would meet this otherworldly being. She was seated on a tucked corner trying to look inconspicuous. But who can hide that face, he thinks amused. She looks like a warrior but if her intent is to disappear, that face will undoubtedly out her. Puts her in a disadvantaged position. Not that he’s judging. He knew full well the predicament of being visible. His armor alone turns heads anywhere he goes.

When he looks her way again she was gone. The next thing he knows he is getting a beating of his life. He is getting matched blow by blow.

In the midst of flying fists and his body getting pinned down, he can’t help but think, _that the stunning face might be worth it_. Risk be damned if she can defend herself like this. Leaves him no choice but to offer her a drink.

He thought that’ll be the last time he sees her but he couldn’t be more wrong. He couldn’t stay away. That became a recurring theme when it comes to her. He couldn’t stay away...

During the fight saving the village, he voluntarily handed her one of his most powerful weapon. That took him aback. As a Mandalorian, weapons are part of his religion. Handing over one is like surrendering part of yourself. Cara Dune just took a part of him. The explosions shook him.

Nevarro.

His heart beating like drums, heralding the fight that is about to start. His fist tight and taut, ready to strike. Leather creaking from tension.

Looking at his side, he has never seen anything like her. Her body tight like a bow ready to strike. Same posture as his. Like a synchronized danced, one might have thought they’ve practiced a thousand times. Steps and blows that protects each other, giving the opponent no room to retaliate.

They cover each others weaknesses. It astonishes him how her body responds to his. Like there’s a thread connecting them. Pulling them together then throwing them apart. Dealing the fatal blows to those who wants to harm them. Feeling her ragged breath as they stand back to back surveying the carnage. They are horrifyingly efficient, it inspires awe. With all the nefarious entity going after their kid. They had to be.

 _Their kid_. That phrase stayed with him longer than he intended to.

They need to stop making this a habit. Pinned in the corner with no escape. Blood staining her hands as she withdrew it from the back of his head. Behind the stoic mask he is frantically trying to memorize her face.

“I won’t leave you”, she says.

“Take the kid and let me die a warriors death.” His grip tightening on her hands before raging flames engulf them. Din feels the heat but not the burn he is anticipating. He feels her weight on top of him. His mind screaming, _no, no, no, not her._

To his surprise she’s unharmed and he sees his son crumpled on the floor. He abruptly sits up but Cara is holding him down. It dawned on him what happened. Once again his boy saved him. Saved all of them.

He musters his last strength, “You need to get our of here. Take him, take my son.”

Her hand slipping away from his felt more painful than his fatal wounds. Why is he regretting the life he never had... The life he didn’t get a chance to live.

It felt like a cruel jest that his last moments is spent listening to an Ig-11 droid joking. He doesn’t know what to make of that. Life was shattered once in the hands of a droid. What twisted faith brought him back full circle. A droid saving his life this time. Ig-11 erasing all the legacy of his kind as he sprays bacta on him. Thoughts swirling in his head... processing the loophole that might have saved his life.

Back in the Crest that night. Din couldn’t stop himself, he tentatively knocks at Cara’s compartment. When Cara answered he was left shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Not knowing what to say or do.

Cara opened her door wider and led him to the modest cot. Just as they are trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in, they hear a soft coo. Limbs all tangled up, body all a skewed. Cara burst out laughing, he couldn’t help but join in as she scoop up a bewildered kid off the floor.

In the middle of the night, when everything's quiet, his hands draped around Cara’s waist. The kid sandwiched in between their heads, his breathing even apart from the few soft snores that escapes him. Din couldn’t help but be grateful for this respite, pockets of silence in their chaotic world.

The next day before the sun was up, he’s descending the steps to the covert. Theres a lot to be done. The Armorer will need all the hands she can get.

After sifting through the wreckage, long after Cara and the kid returned to the ship. Din and the Armorer surveyed what was left. The Armorer handed him something glistening. At first glance it looks like a harmless accessory. But he knew all too well that forging something from beskar will be nothing less than a weapon. It is a concave crescent blade that opens up to three pieces with claw like hook in the end. The face is engraved with intricate mudhorn sculls inside swirling chains.

“We are warriors”, the Armorer started. “This is who we are. We are home in the battlefield. But we have to remember who we bleed for. Why we bleed for them.”

She sat by him. “Make a life that makes all of this worth it. Have her wear it and she will be welcomed at any covert. Have her carry it and any tribe will recognize her. Give her your signet and forge a life that will raise warriors.” She doesn’t mention her name but Din knows full well who she was talking about.

She left him sitting by himself staring at the roaring forge.

Din sees blinding flashes and flowing red. Bleeding is part of his job. Nothing fascinating about the red liquid he usually sees. He associates it with pain but seeing Cara emerging from the haze and smoke, covered in blood he knew full well was not hers. With his son perched on her right hip and his pulse rifle on the other. Like an avenging angel gracing the planet with her presence and blood is her crown. He remembers the adrenalin coursing in his veins, he never felt prouder, never felt honored as to have this woman fight by his side. Blood taking a new meaning the she’s around. He no longer sees it as a meaningless spill but it is now sacred. He will be damned first before seeing another drop from Cara and his son.

Today. 

Toweling off the excess water on his bare chest while walking around wearing only loose sweats and his helmet. Even a cold shower could not counter the sweltering heat the desert planet is emanating. He can hear a catchy tune coming from the refresher, followed by splashing water in tune with the song. Coos and squeals replaces words as the kid tries to sing along Cara’s song.

His heart swells a thousand fold hearing the commotion. _Who knew bath time can be so rewarding_ , he chuckles.

In his sleeping compartment he rummaged through his meager belongings until he finds a simple box. He nervously clutches it and he walks back to the common area to wait for his out of tune song birds to come out.

Cara finally emerges with a towel wrapped around her. Carrying the kid with an enormous towel wrapped around his head and nothing else. Cara sits by Din and started drying the giggling kid.His wrinkles more evident now because of the inordinate amount of time he plays with water. Cara handing him nice and dry to Din. Before Din could finish fastening the last button, the kid shoots off his hand. Speeding away to explore another corner of the ship. His little feet carrying him to another adventure. To where they don’t know.

Before Cara can stand, Din held her hand. “Stay”, he said. “Give me a moment, I need to show you something.”

Cara curiously went back to her seat.

Din slid the box in front of her.

“What’s this?” Her enticing smirk blossoming.

“This was made for you, a while ago.” Din apprehensively replied. “It took me a little longer to get the courage to give it to you.”

Cara opened the box. She audibly gasped.

The blade look delicate but there's no mistaking its lethality. The beskar glints in her hand. It curve inward, opens up to three blades thats sharp on all sides. Curved claw attachment in the end. It hooked perfectly on her ring finger. The beskar jutting out like claws. She sees the engraving depicting a mudhorn surrounded by interlocking chains that looks like vines.

Fighting to see through unshed tears, she looks at Din. “Is this how you use it?”

After watching her admiring and testing it around her fingers. Din gently takes her hand and unhook the blade. “That’s one way to use it but usually they tuck it here.” Din gently nudge her around and tucked the blade in her hair. The claw twisting in her braid to keep it in place. “ This will identify you as my riduur and any Madalorian Clan who sees will know.”

Cara turned around, closes her eyes and let both of her hands run from his neck to his jaw.

Din lifts his helmet and places it on the table.

Cara maps his face, memorizing every line, peaks and valleys. His lips are her favorite. Shaped like a bow that dips in a valley right in the center of his lower lips. Smile blossoming under her touch. Din places soft kisses on her palm. Cara gently urges him forward while running her hands through his hair.

Din seeing her in all of her magnificence, observing her beauty that he once considered a disadvantage. He is relishing it, never fails to put him in awe time and again. She is the closest thing he had ever seen to perfection or she is perfection herself. She is strength personified.

Who would have thought he would meet this otherworldly being in a backwater planet like Sorgan.

He traces her cheeks, her lips. Their breaths mingling and hearts racing. Her lips touching his in a deliberate, delicate dance that they know so well. The give and take, the push and pull that anchors their being at this moment in time. Until they don’t know where one ends and the other begins.

A small plush frog is hurled to their face. Followed by a loud gasp and a hurried tapping of feet scurrying away.

Cara sighs. Her eyes still closed.

"He is playing using the force again, isn't he? What happened to the rule no projectiles inside the ship?"

Din couldn't help but chuckle. Still stroking her face as a smile appears on her lips. Reluctant to let her go he swipes lingering touches on her cheeks.

"He's stubborn. I wonder where he gets that from." Din replies.

He reaches for his helmet and put it on. Cara like instinct knows when to open her eyes.

Wearing her endearing smirk as she stands up. “Next time, if you're going to ask me something monumental… at least let me get dressed first?” Cara trying to shimmy out of the bench they were sitting in. Clutching the fluffy towel to her.

Din burst out laughing his modulator couldn’t contain. “Its a deal”, he says. “Go get dressed while I go hunt for the cheeky gremlin, hiding here somewhere.”

* * *

This is how I imagined Cara's beskar blade would look like.

**Author's Note:**

> My head canon in this story - every covert or tribe gives the Mandalorian bride/groom a weapon made of beskar that specifically identifies them as a Madalorian Riduur.
> 
> To[ scarlette2u](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25381183/chapters/63416617) for inspiring me to revisit this line, "They are warriors, this is who they are." Thank you.


End file.
